


When Scorpius Malfoy walked on the train in sixth year

by lemontreeleaves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Crushes, Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Pining, Platform 9 3/4, Stress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29394363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemontreeleaves/pseuds/lemontreeleaves
Summary: Albus Potter was a little in love with his best friend, Scorpius Malfoy, but it was tolerable. That was, until, Scorpius walked onto the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of sixth year.Inspired by that Remus/Sirius moment in chapter 57 of MsKingBean89's All The Young Dudes(https://archiveofourown.org/works/10057010/chapters/25934052)
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 100





	When Scorpius Malfoy walked on the train in sixth year

Albus Severus Potter was _stressed_. Though that was putting it mildly; borderline panic, if he wasn’t already over the line–was more accurate. Hair-greying, temple-pinching, blood-boiling, stressed. That was what being friends with Scorpius Malfoy was like, at least, that’s how it was when the one train and means of transport to school was moments away from setting off for the highlands. Every other day was as easy as breathing, their unexpected friendship formed on the first day school had been all they’d needed over the last four years. Maybe that was why as he checked his wristwatch again; breathing was taking a conscious, concentrated effort.

_Come on Malfoy, bloody git. Where are you? You’re making a right fool out of me stressing over you like granny._

He exhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering as he threw his head back against the compartment seat with a gentle thud. His fingers tapped against his leg, which was now long enough to bridge the distance between the opposite seats. His mum called his summer-long body aches ‘growing pains’. He called them a pain in the arse. You could also call it a desperate cry for new clothes too. He’d patiently explained to his mother that it was, in fact, a tragedy that he could no longer cuff his jeans properly. They hadn’t actually had the _real ‘_ cuffed jeans conversation’ yet. Preferably never. Well, he still needed to figure out just which conversation they would be having, he had to quell the burning questions he was sure were in his parents’ minds eventually, no matter how obvious the answer was.

At least he had new school robes this year. When he’d looked in the mirror three days ago, he actually rather liked the 16-year-old wizard standing in front of him. His father might’ve said it was because he was a growing young man, which may be true, but Albus reckoned it was the new robes that for once, weren’t hand-me-downs from James. He’d even grown fond of how his eyes matched his Slytherin greens after Scorpius told him how they sparkled. It was on that day in third year, Albus positively melted.

Scorpius always looked good in his robes, or anything he wore. From school uniform to dress robes, right down to his bloody matching silk set pyjamas, he always looked good. Albus figured the great Malfoy fortune was hardly spread thin with only one son.

For now, Albus continued his anguished waiting game on the train in his muggle day clothing–jeans, a new yellow hoodie and converse. He settled into the fabric letting it swallow him whole, just the way he wanted it to. Bliss. Well, bliss with a side of train noises, families and students alike. He was hardly going to change into his cardboard-stiff uniform before Scorpius showed up. _If, he shows up_ , said the pesky voice in the back of his head. Well, he certainly wasn’t dead. If he was, he’d be one of the first to know. He didn’t think he could bear living in a world without his best friend. _Then where in the world are you, Scorpius? I need you. Don’t leave me._ _You wouldn’t leave me, would you? We’ve got chocolates to buy and stories to tell. I also need you to help me with potions this year. Like, a lot._

In the midst of his worrying, his father’s voice briefly cracked through the fog in his mind like a ray of paternal sunshine–or just plain old reasonable thinking. It wasn’t actually an imaginary voice this time, rather, Albus remembering his father’s words from all of half an hour ago on the platform.

* * *

“Albie, please, get on the train already.”

“Nope. Not until I see Scorpius.” His feet were planted firmly.

Ginny responded with the same stubbornness. “It’ll leave any minute, with or without you.”

“Just five more–”

“Listen to your mother, Albus.” Harry said, cutting him off.

“It’s barely ten thirty, mum! It doesn’t leave until eleven! Eleven! I promise I’ll get on soon.” Albus was almost begging. They knew exactly what time the train left, maybe they just wanted him off. He could hardly blame them sometimes.

Ginny had her arms crossed, unflinching. “Why can’t soon be now?” She raised an eyebrow sarcastically.

“I–”

“There is no reason why you can’t wait for Scorpius from on the train.” Ginny argued.

“Don’t you want to find a place to sit, I doubt there’s any empty compartments left at this time.” Harry chimed in. The three of them looked around the platform, heads and robes whizzing about, another family almost running into them. Albus responded with a raised eyebrow of his own.

“Mum! Dad! if I wait out here, I’ll be able to see better when Scorpius does arrive.”

“Exactly. When he does arrive, which he will, in due time. Because the Malfoys will be here, even if they are a little tardy.” She explained patiently. “Honestly, Albie there’s no reason for all this fuss.” Ginny explained, placing both hands up on Albus’ shoulders.

“But there’s every reason to fuss, mum! You just said it yourself, it is a little odd that they’re so late this year. It’s all the reason for me to stay out here.” He opened his mouth to make another mistake. “And besides, it’s not as if you need to be here, I’m 16, I think I can get on a bloody train by myself when it’s right there.”

“Albus.”

“ALBUS!”

Shit. Fuck. Abort mission. Red alert. Gryffindor parents activated.

But before he could get an apology in, the devil himself appeared in a red and gold quidditch sweater. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. In the form of an older sibling. Brothers.

“Sounds like you’re in _love_ , Albie.” James Potter said in a teasing lilt from behind him. He went to ruffle Albus’ hair but Albus swatted his arm away with a smack, slinking into himself, then back upright.

“Oh piss off, James!” He grumbled, attempting to compensate for the blossoming pink in his cheeks.

“Scorpius! Oh Scorpius!” proclaimed the elder Potter boy, hand on his own forehead. “Where art thou? I yearn for thee!”

“I don’t act like _that_ , you tosser!”

James continued his one-man show; “I believe I may die a most tragic death if thou doest not appear!”

“James, please.” Ginny reprimanded.”–and shouldn’t you be on the train already?” James didn’t even try to stifle his laughter, guffawing all the way.

“Alright, alright I’m going.” Replied James, still wheezing from his own performance. He swaggered backwards, then stopped. “Are you coming or…?” he yelled.

“Yeah, yeah, in a bit.”

“Suit yourself!” and he disappeared into the crowd.

Albus exhaled, willing for the blood vessels in his face to calm themselves again. With his shoulders slumped, he spoke. “Fine. I’ll get on now.” Harry and Ginny smiled, exchanging a glance that did not go by unnoticed.

“He’ll be here soon, Albus. I’m sure of it. Alright?” Harry said, a hand on Albus’ shoulder.

He hugged them both and wormed his way out of a kiss on the cheek before finally setting off towards the train.

Once Albus was out of earshot, Harry pondered to his wife; “He really did miss Scorpius this summer.”

* * *

Albus did in fact catch what his father had said about him and felt the heat rising in his cheeks again. He wasn’t wrong, the summer had been agonizingly lonely for him, even with his older brother and younger sister pestering him at every hour of the day and the Weasley’s near-daily house calls. It was a perfectly ordinary Potter summer and that was what made it so unbearable. Stupid Malfoy whisking Scorpius off to France, or Greece or wherever in Europe rich wizards liked to piss off to for the summer. Great, now he had to think about not thinking about Scorpius shirtless on some Mediterranean beach, sunlight dazzling off his skin while salt water dripped from his hair. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Every summer since he’d started at Hogwarts, Scorpius had come to visit and he vice versa. The one week or so where he actually smiled at the prospect of going to the beach, or willingly went to have dinner with his family (so long as Scorpius was by his side. For ease of conversation, of course.). Then there was all the other fun they had outside of school; from the muggle movies in the cinemas to learning and failing to skateboard. They could be found reading manga on Albus’ bed and fiddling with musical instruments in Scorpius’ room. There was also the last summer when the two of them nicked a half-empty bottle of firewhisky from the cabinet by using Albus as a distraction for the house elves. Just the two of them, positively pissed in the middle of a field, the moon shining over them as they laughed until their ribs ached.

_He remembered how beautiful Scorpius looked in the moonlight, all silvery blonde hair, piercing eyes and the softest lips he could just–_

But he didn’t. Yeah. To put it lightly, their fifth year that followed had been a very _trying_ year for Albus. He was certain Scorpius wasn’t spending every waking moment thinking about all the lovely, romantic, and super Gay things he’d like to do with his best friend that ‘best friends’ certainly didn’t do without being _more than friends_. Not like he did. Certainly not daily–or ever

He wouldn’t exactly describe it as being _madly in love_ with his best friend, much to the amusement of his teasing family. No, no, it was…Something else. How Albus felt about Scorpius was more like the natural progression from caring for and solemnly appreciating his one and only friend to an overwhelming desire to stick his tongue in said friend’s mouth. He then realised that if he put it like that, then it did sound a little like falling for his best friend.

His foolish heart had been hammering at itself all summer long, especially without Scorpius’ actual presence around him to satisfy it. His lungs would constrict at the sheer thought of him, but actually _being_ together–Albus and Scorpius, was like oxygen. Easy, and it felt right. All those poetic things about him being his rock, the ground beneath his feet. It was only when he was alone it truly struck.

_“Albie, dear brother. This has to stop.” James chastised him that summer. “I know he’s your best friend and all, but…” he gestured vaguely “isn’t good for you.”_

Fuck off, imaginary James. He’s right but he can fuck off. It was fine, he could handle himself, just like he had all summer…By pining away hopelessly, day in, day out, living on almost-daily letters. He wasn’t going to let his aching heart ruin the best thing he had in his life. The best thing in his life that _still wasn’t on the train!_ His watch read five minutes to eleven.

 _Come on Scorp, you wouldn’t let me down now, would you?_ He brought his knees up to his chest, eyes flitting to the door at every noise from outside the compartment. He wouldn’t actually make him sit through the eight-hour trip alone, only to miraculously show up in their dormitory after dinner, would he? It had happened before, and he didn’t put it past the Malfoys to make it happen again.

Then, the compartment door flew open with a rattle and a bang and there stood Scorpius Malfoy himself, his cheeks lightly tinted pink, chest heaving ever so noticeably. Albus sprung out of his huddle and his eyes widened like saucers.

“SCORPIUS!” he yelped. “You–you actually bloody made it.” Albus tried to cover up the last hour of fretting that surely laced his voice. _Is he panting? What happened to him? Is he okay?_

Scorpius smirked from his position leaning against the sliding door. “Hey, Al.” Albus’ internal organs were in knots at the sight of him. “Didn’t think I’d leave you all of a sudden this year, did you?” he apologised, gently, still smiling. Albus barely registered the apology, lips gaping ever so slightly. His brain was completely and utterly fried and frazzled because _oh my fucking god–Scorpius got hot._ He’d shot up over the summer and Albus knew that if he were to stand up, there’d be almost a head between. He gulped at the thought of Scorpius staring him down.

He wore a leather jacket that sat impeccably on his shoulders, now broader, with black jeans that complimented his legs in ways that Albus struggled to will the thoughts of away. Since when did Scorpius wear leather bloody jackets? Was his best friend trying to kill him? Albus blamed continental Europe entirely for this recent development.

“Scorp, you uh, you look gr–nice. Nice. You look really good.” Albus could barely comprehend the mess tumbling out of his mouth.

“You think so?” Scorpius’ green eyes twinkled as he moved to sit down. “I was a little nervous about the jacket, think I must’ve changed about six or seven times before I could leave. Dad was _losing it._ ” He laughed.

Albus could not believe what he was hearing. Did he honest to the heavens above go through almost an hour of pure emotional turmoil over Scorpius being unable to select an outfit. At least he looked good. Too good. “Is that really why you were late?” he half-joked, only for Scorpius to gently shove him. _Do it again, why don’t you. Then perhaps up against the carriage wall, or any wall, I’m not fussy, with your mouth on mine and my hands running down your back to your–_

“No, no, it was a bunch of other stuff.”

“Really?” Albus replied, unsatisfied.

“Yeah. That was it.”

“It wasn’t because you sifted through half your wardrobes trying to find something to wear to sit on a train with me with me for eight hours?”

Scorpius’ pale face went pink. “No!” he laughed. Albus thought the pink went nicely with his summery glow. Just another thing that was making his heart run laps around his ribcage.

“Well, that only leaves one other thing you could’ve been doing this morning because your trunk is always packed the night before.” He paused. “Your hair.”

Scorpius stopped twiddling his thumbs to run a hand right through his blond hair, draped like curtains framing his face. “I thought you liked my hair?” Scorpius went to push it back again, allowing it to fall gracefully back into place. Albus rolled his eyes. Maybe if he tried hard enough, they’d roll back into his skull and he wouldn’t have to look at Scorpius in his sixth-year, sun-kissed, front fucking cover of Witch Weekly looks for the rest of the journey. Did he really want that though? Goodness no.

“You look good too, Albie.” He beamed, earnestly. “Your pants–they, they look good on you.”

Albus couldn’t even splutter out a reply. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? He was fortunately saved by the trolley witch, gently rapping on the compartment door as the train finally pulled out of King’s Cross.

“Chocolate?” asked Scorpius, eagerly.

“Yeah. Definitely.” A distraction at last. He didn’t even want to imagine how stupidly red-faced he must be. Stupid leather jacket.

Albus tore open the wrapper of the chocolate frog. It was going to be a trying year indeed.


End file.
